And I Feel Them Drown My Name
by Justice237
Summary: I've had enough, of everything. I'm gonna leave it all behind now. All the guilt. All the anxiety. All the pain. Rated T for dark themes, full warnings inside. Inspired by the song Grace by Jeff Buckley.
1. It's a Cold and Broken Hallelujah

**Warning: Rated T for suicide, along with mentions of anxiety, panic attacks and self-harm.**

Jody, I heard you talking with May-Li's grandmother. About how writing down everything in a letter makes you feel better, or 'lighter' as you put it. So here I am now, trying that same technique. Maybe by the end of it, I won't go through with what I'm planning to do.

Might as well start at the beginning.

I was born to two people who I'm willing to bet had a rocky relationship at best. For one, my father walked out on me and my mother. I don't remember it, but that's what my social worker told me. I guess my mum was pregnant with Chloe at the time. That should really tell you all you need to know - a man walking out on his heavily pregnant partner and heavily dependent infant son. Father of the year right there folks!

So yeah, things were looking pretty shitty for us, but oh Lord, things were about to get much worse.

It's all in my records - my mum turned to the drink as a means of 'coping' after Chloe was born. She just couldn't stand the prospect of the love of her life leaving her. She could barely provide for herself and one child, let alone two!

Actually no, scratch that. She couldn't provide for any children at all, full stop. All she could provide for was herself and her alcohol addiction. She acknowledged us, once in a while - she used Chloe like a doll, hugging her and feeding her when she felt empty. She would care for me in my infancy, only until I was old enough to toddle. Then it was left up to me to figure everything out. Mum would often leave me home alone to take care of Chloe, while she went out. I would sing to Chloe, anything I could, until she was old enough to join in.

Eh, I don't even know why I'm telling you all of this. It's all in my file - how I was taken into care on my fifth birthday, because my mother blamed me for Chloe's fall, just to save face. That's right, she let her own son, her _five-year-old son,_ carry a false burden for what could've been his whole life. For crying out loud, did she have any idea of the serious psychological repercussions that would induce?! How the hell do you impose that sort of blame on a child?!

Normally, I would've been given some sort of punishment for allegedly pushing my sister out of the window, but the age of criminal responsibility is 10, and I was 5. Not wanting me to grow up in a toxic household, I was taken away from my sister - whom I loved and cared for more than anything or anyone else in the entire world - and put into care, where I didn't know anyone and I didn't know what was happening.

When I was 7 - or maybe 8 - I was given the chance to see Chloe again. However, that didn't go too well. Mum insisted on watching over the whole thing, and poor Chloe couldn't get a word in edgeways. Mum kept demanding to know why I did it, and naturally I couldn't provide an answer. I didn't know what would get into me to do something like that - I didn't even remember doing it! She kept going on and on, ranting and raving, I wouldn't be surprised if she was drunk. Right there, in that moment, was when it all got too much - I had a panic attack. My first panic attack at the age of 8, imposed by my own mother.

Have you ever had a panic attack? I really, REALLY hope you haven't - it's not something I'd wish on anyone. You feel out of control - it's like oxygen has been taken from you. It's honestly terrifying - you can't breathe, your heart is kicking into overdrive, your chest feels like it's going to collapse in on itself, your stomach is doing somersaults, you feel hot and cold at the same time, you're sweating, you don't know why you're experiencing this or how to get it to stop - and that's the scariest part, because above all, when you're having a panic attack, you don't have a shadow of a doubt in your mind that you are going to die right then and there, and there's nothing whatsoever you can do about it.

And that was just one of many panic attacks I ended up having. When you have generalised anxiety disorder when you're less than ten years old, and said mental disorder is caused by your own mother, you know your situation is fucked up.

After that, I knew I had lost Chloe. I could never have my sister back again.

That was when I just snapped.

I stopped caring. I had lost everything and everyone important to me. So I just did whatever I wanted, not caring about how it would affect others. How could I show compassion when the world showed no compassion to me?!

Okay, I got Xanax for my anxiety, fair enough. But only after my current care home had an inspection to see whether or not they could properly care for a child with mental health issues and failed. I had to be sent to a 'special home'. I hated it there. The whole point of being sent there is be supported through your mental illness, so you know something is off when a kid with anxiety is self-harming because of him having to live there. The care worker - I won't go into what he did, but let's just say that you wouldn't send a neurotypical child there, let alone a mentally ill child!

They had a dog. I don't remember what breed it was, but I know that it was huge and it'd probably scare the shit out of even Bailey - hell, it'd probably terrify Mischief himself! That dog led to ingrained cynophobia. I can't get over it, and now I never will.

It was a relief when I got out of there. I got sent to Heathview House after I was deemed 'sane enough'. You know the story then - Laces and his mates tearing up my sister's card (although I have always begged the question of how he ended up with a nickname like Laces!), and me having the mother of all anxiety attacks when it came to his birthday. I wasn't thinking straight, genuinely - all I knew was that they had something I didn't - a birthday that didn't make you feel like you were the lowest scum of the Earth.

I requested a transfer, and I ended up here. You know everything that happened after that.

So, why am I killing myself?

I can't let go.

What I've wished for all those years in care was for Chloe's fall to never have happened. It was following me around 24/7 - the fact that I had committed such a heinous crime for a reason I couldn't recall even slightly. Even now, when I know that the burden I was carrying was false, I can't quite let go of it. I may not have pushed Chloe out of the window, but I should've kept an eye on her. Stopped her from getting so close.

I don't want to live like this anymore. Sometimes I still find myself relying on the knife to help me cope with myself and all the things that I've done. I've had enough, of everything. I'm gonna leave it all behind now. All the guilt. All the anxiety. All the pain.

Mike,

I'm sorry. Good God, I'm so sorry. You gave me more than I deserved. Thank you, for everything you've done for me. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if I'm in the Ninth Circle of Hell as you read this.

Carmen,

You did a really brave thing back there, I respect you for that.

Bailey,

I'm sorry for letting Mischief out, I didn't mean for him to get hurt. Tell Mischief I'm sorry too.

Tyler,

I never thanked you for clearing my name, so I'm thanking you now. If you hadn't gone digging, I would've probably done this a lot sooner. Thanks, but I'm beyond saving now.

Jody,

Sorry for giving you a hard time about your family, and about your catharsis. Karma has come around by now - you're probably reading my most private and personal thoughts - everything I've wanted to say for my whole life.

Kazima,

Sorry for telling the news you were a thief.

Tee,

Thank you for throwing me a birthday party against my will - not! When I walked in to everyone singing, I was certain that my secret would be out - that I would have an attack right then and there, followed by a shit-ton of bullying. You can imagine my surprise when the anxiety didn't come.

Sasha,

If you were anyone else, I would praise you for having the guts to own up that it was you and Tee who told the others about Chloe, but you're not anyone else. You actually caused me to have a minor anxiety attack in front of everyone, and I know that it would've scaled into a full-blown attack if I hadn't gotten out of there.

Harry,

Mate, you're a legend. You're the kindest, most caring person I've ever known. I'm glad you stole my letter and called Chloe - it ended with a massive weight being lifted off my shoulders. You're gonna grow up to be a brilliant, amazing person - you're more than I deserve, honestly. This has to be done though, I'm so sorry mate.

Mum,

Fuck you. You can't just frame a vulnerable little child for something like that. You can't go lying to the police and Social Services. You can't just go to America and dump off your other child. That shit is just messed up.

Chloe,

I love you. Dear God I love you, wheelchair and all. I know this sounds cliche, but it's true - you were my sunshine, my light. You were the most important thing in my life - as long as I had you, I was happy and I needed or wanted nothing else. Just you and your wit, and your charm. Everyone who met you loved you, including me. Then there's me. Look at me, I'm arrogant, manipulative and dishonest. I don't deserve to live any longer, and now I won't. I love you and care about you more than anything and anyone else in the world. You are going to grow up to be such a beautiful, prosperous, wonderful woman, without me. You don't deserve me being attached to you - you deserve so much better. You deserve the world, Chloe, and you can get it.

That's all I want to say. No one else has made enough of an impact on my life to be worth mentioning here. Don't cry for me, you don't deserve the right to cry, and I don't deserve the right to be cried for.

Except for you, Chloe. Cry all you want.

With everything in me,

Ryan Reeves


	2. The Pain I Might Leave Behind

**Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter! Now, before we read this chapter, let me just say something - I love Ryan. He's easily my favourite character in the whole show. That's why I'm writing this - because he's the only one complex enough to make this work. To all the readers ... I apologise.**

 **Also, I don't own the lyrics to the song Grace used in this chapter. They are the sole property of the late Jeff Buckley, RIP Jeff.**

 **Warnings: Darker than the previous chapter - contains mentions of methods of suicide, past self harming, suicide and character death (duh!)**

Ryan put down his pen, shaking his sore hand. That had been the longest he'd ever gone handwriting non-stop up to that point - and now it was the longest he ever would go. It was 1 a.m now, and it was cold. He felt so cold, both inside and out. There was already condensation on his window.

Part of him had hoped that getting everything off his chest in a strongly worded letter would ease the burden, and hopefully discourage him from carrying out what he had been planning to carry out. But it hadn't - all it had done was remind him of why he was planning to do this in the first place, and made him feel even more sure that he was taking the path he wanted to take - what everyone wanted him to take.

Fine with him.

He left the note on his desk, the pen next to it and the bottle of Xanax on top of it.

He hadn't opted to overdose - he didn't have enough pills left for that. Wrist-slitting was too messy and it most likely wouldn't work anyway. Shooting himself wasn't an option as he couldn't get hold of a gun, and it'd wake everyone up anyway. Hanging was slow, painful and undignified - these were his last moments, he'd like to have some dignity in dying, thank you very much. Falling from a great height would be too ironic for words, and it probably wouldn't work anyway (Ryan couldn't help but let out a mirthless laugh at the thought of him attempting suicide in that way and ending up in a wheelchair.) He didn't know where Mike kept the minibus keys or his car keys, so carbon monoxide poisoning wasn't an option. Choking by any other means, including drowning, would be too painful, and again, undignified. (His panic attacks had always felt like drowning - he didn't feel like suffocating for real.) Stabbing was way too painful. He couldn't poison himself as he couldn't get a hold of it, and trying to use cleaning products to do the job would be futile as he would just throw them back up.

There was only one option.

He'd changed into his favourite outfit already - the black skinny jeans, socks and Converse, with his black shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He took a moment to glance at the prominent lines on his forearms. He ran his fingers down them, feeling the sharp stings, as if he was pressing the knife into his skin all over again. It was nothing more or less than he deserved.

Ryan stood up, picked up his phone and earphones and left his room, going across the landing, down the stairs and out the back door, taking great care not to make any noise whatsoever.

Ryan found himself in the back garden, the cold wind buffeting his brown hair and stinging his exposed arms, but he bared through it - he wouldn't have to feel anything in not very long.

His Physics lessons had taught him that the quickest death from hypothermia would be caused by minimal clothing and being essentially spread eagle on the ground, but Ryan lay down off to one side and curled into the fetal position. He wanted to die with dignity, no matter how long it took. He'd still be dead by the morning anyway.

His fingers numbing fast, he inserted his earphones into his ears and went through his music library, selecting one song to play on loop as his life slipped away from him.

It was an easy choice.

As the guitar intro strummed in his ears, Ryan's vision started to blur with tiredness. The caffeine in coffee and Red Bull would only slow down his death even more, after all. Yet as Jeff Buckley's soft voice sounded in his ears, the least perceptible of smiles appeared on his face as his eyes focused on the ghostly galleon in the sky, tossed upon cloudy seas (A/N: Bonus points if you got that reference).

 _There's the moon asking to stay_

 _Long enough for the clouds to fly me away_

The moon did indeed look like it was fighting to stay visible as the clouds flew around in front of it. Ryan laid his head on the cold grass and gazed at it like it would disappear if he looked away. He wasn't sure whether he wanted the night to stick around for long or not, but he would find out when he was flying away with those wispy clouds.

 _Well it's my time coming, I'm not afraid, afraid to die_

His time was coming alright. He wasn't afraid. There was no point in being afraid, there was literally nothing coming. It wouldn't even matter that he would never see Chloe again - there wouldn't be a Ryan Reeves to miss her anymore.

 _My fading voice sings of love,_

 _But she cries to the clicking of time, oh, time._

Not quite - 85% of the words in his suicide note had been laced with venom and malice. Yet he had written a very long paragraph dedicated to Chloe, and since these were his last words, he had been completely and utterly honest - how much he loved her, how much he'd missed her, and all the pain and confusion he'd felt all those years ago at the time when she fell - and all the years after that. It stung him now to think of her mourning him, but he wouldn't be around for the real thing anyway.

 _Wait in the fire, wait in the fire_

 _Wait in the fire, wait in the fire_

Ryan felt a cold drop in his hair, then another on his arm. Soon enough, it was raining steadily - no fire could survive right there and then. But it did mean that he'd probably die faster. There was a reason he'd picked this night after all. He'd read or heard somewhere that right before a man freezes to death, he suddenly feels nice and warm. Maybe that was what would happen to him now. Maybe that was what Jeff was talking about when he was going on about fires and waiting.

 _And she weeps on my arm_

 _Walking to the bright lights in sorrow_

Ryan couldn't help but ponder over whether anyone would cry when they found out that he'd been cutting. He tried to imagine people weeping over his self-inflicted scars, but his thoughts were blurring together, and he found he was beyond caring at that point anyway. He wouldn't walk to any bright lights in sorrow. He'd welcome them gladly. Well, do you think he'd be lying outside in the cold and the wind and the rain on purpose if he planned to react any other way?

 _Oh drink a bit of wine we both might go tomorrow_

 _Oh my love_

How ironic, Ryan thought, as the wind blew the rain around so hard that he ended up inhaling a few drops. Jeff Buckley himself had died from drowning, and just a few years earlier, there he was, singing about how he wasn't afraid to go. Be careful what you wish for.

 _And the rain is falling and I believe my time has come_

That much was true - the cold had already seeped into his bones, aided by the rainwater. He wasn't even shivering anymore - his muscles were too numb to contract. Even the electrical signals traveling through his brain seemed to be slowing down. He could hardly think at all. His death was coming soon, he could feel it. Well, it was the only thing he could feel by now.

 _It reminds me of the pain I might leave, leave behind,_

That was it. That was why he was doing this. Ryan was completely numb. His body seemed to have shut itself off from feelings such as cold and pain. That had been his intention all along - to shut down his emotional computer completely and for good. It had been used only to create negative emotions. Ryan was good with technology - he could tell you that himself - but everyone knew you couldn't reboot a malfunctioning emotional computer. The only option was to shut it down to stop it from doing any more damage.

 _Wait in the fire, wait in the fire_

 _Wait in the fire, wait in the fire_

Ryan could no longer hear the sounds of the rainstorm. He felt his eyelids slipping shut, the last thing he ever saw was the watery moon, staring straight back at him like a teary eye. His entire world became the song in his ears and his own heartbeat, the amount of time between each beat increasing as Jeff and his band vocalised.

 _And I feel them drown my name_

 _So easy to know and forget with this kiss_

Would anyone remember him? Would anybody care? Or would they just drown his name and leave it there to be neglected? The odds were looking largely towards the answer to the latter question being 'yes'. They would forget him as he received the Kiss of Death. It would be easy enough for them, Ryan supposed.

 _I'm not afraid to go but it goes so slow ..._

His breathing slowed down even more. He knew that by now he was wheezing with every breath and that he was practically gasping. This was it. The life of Ryan Reeves would end in harsh, vicious cold and darkness. It was fitting really, there wasn't much warmth and light in his life anyway, not after Chloe's accident.

As Jeff belted out the last lines of the song, it was like Ryan was hearing them through a badly-tuned radio. The vocals and instruments were distorted, the dynamics inconsistent. It was like he was falling down, down, down into a dark hole ...

... before all of a sudden, he was comfortable. He was warm and felt an immeasurable calm. He was strongly at peace, at last.

Ryan Reeves let a smile spread across his face as his last ever breath left his body, and the clouds flew him away.

 ***comes out from behind the sofa* is it safe to come out?**

 ***ducks back down to avoid flying hate mail and tomatoes, as well as boos and hisses for killing Ryan***

 **Just hear me out! *flying hate mail and tomatoes stops* Thank you. Now, here's what I want to know - do you or do you not want to have another chapter showing everyone's reactions?**

 **Review!**


	3. A Blaze of Light in Every Word

**Thanks for the reviews as always, apologies for having to upset all of you.**

 **It was pretty unanimous that you guys wanted to see the others' reactions. I just wasn't sure how to write it, but a long coach ride back from London gave me time to think.**

 **Thanks a billion to Dark Heart 945 for designing the cover for this story!**

 **Anyways, here it is, the third and final chapter of And I Feel Them Drown My Name.**

 **Warnings: Contains mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, past self-harming and freezing to death.**

It was Bailey who spotted him first.

The boy had no clue of what had befallen his rival, so he was up and out of bed by 7 a.m. The weather outside was wet, grey and dreary after the storm that had taken Ryan's life, but Bailey was still eager to burn off some footie urges before breakfast.

Since Ryan had chosen to lie off to one side near the bushes to die, Bailey didn't notice him until long after he started kicking around. It was only when a curveball had managed to knock into Ryan's body - which by now, just under six hours after he died, was as stiff and cold as a stone statue - did Bailey notice the Scouse boy.

Usually, Bailey took no notice of Ryan. But the thing that had him perplexed this time was not only that Ryan was lying on the cold, wet grass, but also that he hadn't reacted at all to Bailey's football hitting him in the solar plexus. Bailey though this looked very suspicious, so he went over to investigate.

"Ryan, you idiot, why are you lying down on the-"

Bailey was cut off at that point, because he had opted to kick Ryan in the stomach in an unsuccessful attempt to wake him, but that kick had made it clear to him that Ryan was stiff. Very stiff. But why ...

Oh no.

Bailey stopped kicking Ryan and knelt down beside him, the pale boy's lack of reaction adding to his dread. He bent down, glad that no one else was around to see him, and placed his ear near to Ryan's face.

No breathing.

He felt for a pulse in the boy's neck.

No pulse - and he was cold. Icy cold, like he'd been out in the rain all night ...

Oh no.

No.

This wasn't happening.

It couldn't be.

Could it?

 _The proof is in the pudding,_ said a brutal little voice in his head.

Bailey shot up and sprinted back to the house, screaming for Mike and May-Li at the top of his lungs.

* * *

Just fifteen minutes later, the coroner's van was parked in the Ashdene Ridge driveway, with several coroners inspecting Ryan's dead body and a few others asking Mike and May-Li several questions about Ryan's whereabouts and activity the previous day and night. The care workers were answering on autopilot - their brains were too busy trying to process their reality to think properly about their answers.

"Hypothermia," concluded the head coroner, Dr Louisa Hollis. "He's been dead for roughly three to six hours - long enough for rigor mortis to set in. No signs of a struggle or any other people involved."

Dr Hollis paused when she saw the looks on Mike and May-Li's faces. She hated this part of the job, but she never minced words.

"I'm terribly sorry, but the only explanation is that he did this intentionally."

Mike could scarcely take it in. Ryan ... commit suicide?! By hypothermia?! But why?!

May-Li gasped, her eyes wide as she struggled to comprehend the whole thing.

"What's going on?" Tee's voice asked from behind the two adults, but she was cut off when she saw Ryan's stiff corpse lying on the ground, being inspected by some assistant coroners.

Mike and May-Li couldn't provide an answer, they were struck speechless by Dr Hollis's verdict. A small crowd consisting of the other young people had formed just behind her.

Dr Hollis continued for them. "He had his phone in his hands, his earphones in his ears. He was listening to a song on loop."

"Which song?" May-Li asked dumbly.

"'Grace', by Jeff Buckley," Hollis informed them.

Mike blinked sharply - he knew that song. It was about not being afraid to die.

He badly didn't want Ryan's death to be suicide, but all the omens were pointing to just that.

"Maybe I should leave you to take care of this?" Dr Hollis proposed, nodding to the intrigued children.

Mike found himself nodding, his body acting on autopilot while his brain was temporarily paralysed.

Dr Hollis gave them a nod, before gesturing to her team to take the body for a full post mortem examination. The coroners lifted Ryan, though it was awkward due to his body being stuck in the foetal position. His phone was still jammed in his frozen fingers, the song still playing.

"Is he ... dead?" Kazima asked fearfully.

The kids didn't need an answer - the looks on Mike and May-Li's faces said it all.

"What?! Why?!" Tee yelled.

"How can he be dead?!" Sasha shouted.

Mike and May-Li looked at each other, having a silent conversation. They were debating whether they should tell the kids the truth - especially with the younger kids there.

"Just tell us already!" Carmen demanded.

The care workers collected themselves before looking straight at the children.

Mike took a deep breath. "The coroner decided he killed himself."

Carmen and Tyler both gasped, Kazima clapped her hand over her mouth, Sasha and Tee looked at each other with wide eyes, Bailey looked down at his shoes, Mo's expression turned to a look of horror and confusion, Finn simply looked totally devastated, the twins looked like they were about to cry, even Floss had been rendered utterly speechless by the news they'd been struck with.

Harry had already started sobbing into Jody's shoulder, while she made unbelievably poor attempts to comfort him, even though she couldn't take it in herself.

"Wouldn't there be a note?" Tyler asked suddenly, which surprised everyone. "My mum says that people who commit suicide leave notes saying why they did it."

Before anyone else could say anything to that, Tee was dashing back to the house, Sasha in pursuit.

Tee bounded up the stairs, bursting into Ryan's room. She could hear the others catching up behind her, but that wasn't the main object of her attention.

Instead, it was the piece of lined paper lying on Ryan's desk, covered all over in his uneven but legible handwriting. But even more than that was the bottle of pills sitting on top of that.

Tee picked up the pill bottle first, looking closely at the label.

"Xanax?" Tee said aloud.

Mike sighed, covering his hand with his face. The kids looked at him questioningly.

"Anti-anxiety medication," Mike clarified in exasperation - how could he not know?

"He had anxiety?!" Carmen yelled in surprise.

"And you didn't know about it?!" Jody accused Mike and May-Li, the looks on their faces betraying the fact that they hadn't known.

"We were never told!" May-Li defended.

Mike sighed. "We should've known though. How is it that we never found out?"

"Maybe his note will say why," Sasha suggested.

"I'll read it out loud," Carmen proposed, picking up the suicide note - which she now realised was over two whole pages long, even using both sides of the paper!

"Let's hear it then," Jody said, as Carmen took a seat on the bed, the others sitting around and behind her. Mike and May-Li stayed standing.

Carmen began reading ...

* * *

"So, yeah, things were looking pretty shi- okay, he's written a swear word here, should I go on?" Carmen asked, just a little way through the note.

"Why would he swear anyway?!" Billie asked, still upset about the whole situation.

Jody did her best to explain it to her. "Because these are his last words ever, he said exactly what he wanted to say."

"Just use a synonym, Carmen," Mike told her.

"So, yeah, things were looking pretty bad for us ..."

* * *

"So, she pinned the blame for Chloe's fall on him?!" Mo asked. "She can't get away with that!"

"We can't find her," May-Li said regretfully. "She's in America."

"But surely we can-" Tee was cut off by Mike.

"We'll deal with everything of that sort later, just keep reading, Carmen," Mike sighed.

* * *

Carmen had to pause after reading out Ryan's description of a panic attack, inducing a moment of sympathetic silence.

"Poor Ryan," Floss murmured suddenly. "That sounds horrible!"

Carmen carried on. "And that was just one of many panic attacks I ended up having. When you have generalised anxiety disorder when you're less than ten years old, and said mental disorder is caused by your own mother, you know your situation is ... terrible."

Mike was struck utterly unable to speak. Generalised Anxiety Disorder?! And they were never told?!

"What's that?!" Harry asked tearfully.

"It means ..." Kazima tried to explain it to him, "it means that he has - had - panic attacks more often than we do."

Harry gasped. Jody wrapped her arm around him once again.

Mike and the others there that knew decided not to twist the knife by telling him that Ryan having Xanax for his anxiety spoke for itself, as prescribing drugs for anxiety disorders was a last resort, when nothing else worked.

Carmen thought it best to carry on after that, though she had to stop again after Ryan's description of the 'special home' he was sent to.

Tee looked at Mike and May-Li. "That's probably why he never told anyone - if you knew, you would've had to send him back there!"

Mike sighed deeply and facepalmed.

"Wait a minute," Sasha interjected. "Read aloud his description of the home again?"

Carmen did. "I hated it there. The whole point of being sent there is be supported through your mental illness, so you know something is off when a kid with anxiety is self-harming because of him having to live there ..."

"He was self-harming?!" Jody shouted.

"It doesn't say that he was self-harming," Kazima pointed out. "It could've been a different kid with anxiety."

May-Li sighed. "I hope you're right, Jody."

Carmen carried on. "They had a dog. I don't remember what breed it was, but I know that it was huge and it'd probably scare the- it'd probably scare even Bailey - hell, it'd probably terrify Mischief himself! That dog led to ingrained cynophobia. I can't get over it, and now I never will."

"I'd like to see this big scary dog," Bailey boasted, which surprised everyone as he'd been silent ever since he screamed for Mike and May-Li upon coming across Ryan's corpse. After the adults had come running, Bailey had been unable to get the words out and had simply pointed in Ryan's direction.

"A boy has just committed suicide and that's your main focus?!" Carmen shouted.

"I found the body!" Bailey retorted, his voice containing surprising anguish. "I had to report it!"

"Guys!" May-Li intervened. "There's a time for arguing, and now is most definitely not that time!"

Carmen and Bailey sighed, and Carmen carried on.

"It was a relief ..."

* * *

"... should've kept an eye on her. Stopped her from getting so close."

Mike sighed deeply, rubbing his face. "Ryan was in no way to blame for what happened to Chloe," he informed the others. "He'd just turned five that day and his mother had left them home alone - how can you expect that of a five-year-old?!"

"Clearly he didn't think so," Sasha murmured.

Carmen had read ahead. "He was self-harming. Listen - 'I don't want to live like this anymore. Sometimes I still find myself relying on the knife to help me cope with myself and all the things that I've done.'"

Mike had to sit down then, burying his face in his hands. This just kept getting worse - how long had Ryan been hiding this?

He didn't even process Carmen reading out the next few words until she suddenly passed it to him.

"Mike, he's written something for you."

Reluctantly, Mike took the note and read Ryan's last short words to him.

Those who got the chance to glance at those words simply assumed that Ryan was apologising for taking his own life. They didn't know the true meaning behind them, or the whole meaning of the Ninth Circle of Hell and why Ryan believed he would end up there.

"You're next," Mike said shortly, passing Carmen the note so she could read her note.

Instead, Carmen took the liberty of reading out everyone's messages from Ryan, though she paused after reading out Tee's message to glare at her, along with everyone else.

Tee held her hands up. "I-If I had known he had anxiety ... I-I would've never-"

"Save it," Jody interrupted, her voice hard. "What's done is done."

"You can't seriously be blaming me for-"

"Tee," Mike interjected, "we'll talk about this later."

Carmen simply rolled her eyes and continued reading.

"Wait," May-Li interrupted, just after Carmen had read out Sasha's message. "How did you and Tee come to the conclusion that Ryan paralysed Chloe to begin with?"

Sasha sighed. Everyone hated her now Ryan had gone and committed suicide on them - she had nothing to lose. "Tee and I eavesdropped when Ryan was talking with his sister."

"And why would you do that?" Mike asked sternly.

"We wanted to find out why he was so scared of seeing her," Tee admitted. "But we didn't know it would cause him to have an anxiety attack!"

"Eavesdropping on private conversations is out of order, anxiety disorder or not!" Mike scolded.

"Harry, he's written this next bit to you," Carmen coaxed gently, as said boy was burrowed into Jody. He wasn't sobbing anymore, but he was visibly distraught. Carmen passed the note to Jody to give to Harry.

Harry stayed pressed into Jody. He was scared to read the last words Ryan had written before killing himself. What if he blamed Harry for making him feel so low that he believed his life wasn't worth living anymore? He should've helped Ryan more, then maybe none of this would've happened.

"Read it, Harry," Jody encouraged. "You'll like it, I promise."

Harry reluctantly pulled away from Jody, wiped his face and took the note. Jody pointed out the small section Ryan dedicated to Harry so he could read it.

When Harry had finished reading it, he felt tears coming to his eyes again. "What did he mean when he said that it had to be done?"

"I think he meant that he felt he had to kill himself," May-Li explained. "He was wrong, though - he didn't have to die."

Jody pulled Harry close to her, trying to support him through this terrible time.

"He's written this next bit to his mum," Jody reported, glancing ahead. "And ... I'm not gonna read it out."

Mike took the note and looked at Ryan's final words to his mother, grimacing at his profanity, before sighing as he read on. "Oh God, how are we gonna tell her?!"

"His mother?!" Tyler asked incredulously.

"No, Chloe," May-Li replied, sitting down.

* * *

It was just 24 hours later when Mike received a call from the coroner, telling him to come and receive the results of the post-mortem examination.

Mike arrived there and was led to his destination, with Ryan's now limp corpse lying creepily on the examination table, his skin pale. Dr Hollis was standing mournfully over him. She turned to Mike and didn't beat about the bush.

"The primary cause of death was hypothermia," she reported. "The PM revealed no signs of a struggle or any evidence to show that he was forced against his will to lie in a rainstorm until he froze to death. The blood tests revealed that there was no alcohol or anything of the sort in his system - except for alprazolam, or in layman's terms Xanax, which has never been known to cause such behaviour."

"We know he committed suicide," Mike sighed sadly, interrupting Dr Hollis's report. "Not long after you left here yesterday, we found his suicide note in his room, his Xanax on his desk."

Dr Hollis patted his arm in a poor attempt to console the man. She briefly wondered how on Earth she was going to deliver her next news to him. She had gone through this scenario several times, but it never once got any easier, and this boy's suicide was unlike any that she had seen before.

But she had promised to herself upon getting her Ph.D. that she would never sugar coat the truth. Grieving relatives deserved the whole truth, no matter how painful it was to receive or deliver.

"I was just about to tell you ..." she trailed off. This was harder than she imagined. She simply made sure that Mike was watching closely, before she carefully lifted Ryan's ice-cold wrist and showed the man his forearm.

Mike had been preparing himself to see the self-inflicted cuts that Ryan had talked about in his suicide note, but he still couldn't help flinching at the sight of them. They looked alarmingly red on Ryan's ghostly-white skin, with every fifth cut being slashed straight across the previous four in a tally.

"The cuts appear to be just a couple of days old," Dr Hollis told him sadly. "They opened and started bleeding out due to the rainwater, speeding up his death."

Mike didn't realise he was trembling until he reached a hand out to trace the angry red gashes. Dr Hollis noticed - this she was used to.

"Sir, I believe you should sit down," she said gently, guiding him to a chair.

"How could I ... I should've known ... oh God, Ryan," Mike breathed, burying his face in his trembling hands.

Dr Hollis patted his back, trying best she could to console him. "Sir ... Mike ... I've dealt with a thousand cases like yours and Ryan's, and I know that right now you are blaming yourself, thinking that you should've got him proper help, and that it's your fault he took his own life."

Mike blinked at her owlishly, tears in his eyes.

"It's not your fault," Dr Hollis said, as firmly as she could muster. "His time of death was placed at 1:20 a.m, with his body temperature starting to drop at 1:05. You couldn't have stopped it happening."

Mike stared straight ahead, not looking her in the eye. "He was smart, you know. Doing it at night, so that no one would notice him until it was too late. Typical Ryan, that's exactly how he would do it."

Dr Hollis gave him a quick hug. "Should I deliver the news to Ryan's other relatives, or do you feel up to doing it yourself?"

"I'll be fine," came Mike's automatic response. "Thank you, for everything."

"It's the least I can do," Dr Hollis replied.

Mike decided to leave right then, yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the image of Ryan's peaceful expression contrasting so strongly with the angry cuts on his arms out of his mind. He sat down in his car but didn't have the motivation to drive back to Ashdene Ridge yet. Instead, he simply called May-Li.

"Mike?"

"It's true," Mike said shortly. "Ryan froze to death just after 1 a.m the night before last. He did it intentionally knowing that he would die, and yes, he was self-harming."

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?" May-Li asked him gently, as they sat in the office together later that day.

Mike sighed. "May-Li ... I think I'm gonna resign."

"Resign?!" May-Li repeated, her eyebrows shooting up so high that Mike would've laughed if the situation hadn't been more unfitting for laughter.

Mike nodded. "It's our job to look after and protect children. It's what I've done for as long as I can remember ... I failed, May-Li. I failed to protect Ryan. Good God, how on Earth did I not know about his mental health issues? And after finding out how he felt about what happened with Chloe ... oh, May-Li, why did I not force him to get counselling? Social Services are going to be all over this, and I'll have to face the consequences."

"Don't be like that," May-Li offered up lamely. "Ryan said so in his note - he doesn't blame you for what he's done. He was the one feeling he needed to apologise to us - to _you._ You came close enough to losing your job a month ago, there's no need for you to walk into it. These kids rely on you, they _need_ you, now more than ever. Are you going to desert them in their time of need?"

Mike briefly wondered telling the whole truth about Ryan and the file, but he couldn't trample on a boy's grave.

May-Li continued. "And even if you did fail Ryan, which you _didn't,_ that doesn't at all mean you should fail all these other kids by resigning. Ryan wouldn't want you to resign - he'd want you to support everyone. Imagine how poor Harry feels! He could never manage without you."

Mike sighed, and sat down at the computer. "I'm gonna clean out my inbox. Give me something to do."

May-Li left, and Mike set out the repetitive but calming task of checking which emails he needed to keep and which were just taking up memory. When he was done with that, he went through the deleted items folder, checking he hadn't deleted anything important by accident. God, he shouldn't have left it this long - he had emails going back to 2014!

He had reached the start of 2015 when something caught his eye - an email with the subject of RYAN REEVES Confidential, sent from Sutton West Children's Services. How had he never noticed this? And how in the name of all things holy had it gotten deleted?!

Mike opened it, and the contents very nearly knocked the wind out of him:

 _Dear Mr Milligan,_

 _With reference to Ryan Reeves,_

 _The purpose of our inspection and assessment is to comment upon the suitability of a child or children placed into care taking into account physical and mental health issues._

Mike's eyes blinked more times in a second than a video camera. His mind flashed back to the day when Ryan first arrived at Ashdene Ridge, how he'd reported a man trying to rob a car, only to come back to a destroyed computer keyboard.

The words from Ryan's suicide note replayed in his head for the umpteenth time. How he'd kept quiet about his mental health issues to avoid being sent back to the special home he'd been sent to.

It all made sense now.

Maybe ... just maybe ... this wasn't his fault.

* * *

Just one day later, many miles away from Ashdene Ridge, Chloe Reeves lay in her bed, staring straight up at the ceiling. It was 2 o'clock in the morning, and yet she couldn't nod off at all. Her social worker's words kept replaying over and over in her head:

"Your brother committed suicide three nights ago."

Chloe had spent the next three hours in such a state that was a mixture of denial, grief and devastation. Her brother killed himself?! By freezing to death?!

She had been given Ryan's suicide note once she'd regained her bearings, and she had read his words to her several times. The only letter her brother would ever send her. She tried replaying his words instead of her social worker's but found they did nothing to help.

He had told her that she didn't deserve him, that she deserved the world, and she could get it.

Only she didn't want the world.

She didn't want to go with her Mum to America once she sent for her - _if_ she sent for her.

She wanted her big brother.

Hot tears formed in her eyes.

* * *

 _He crept through the corridors of the care home in Scotland. It didn't stick out to him at all but for it being the residence of his little sister Chloe Reeves._

 _He had been told that he would only ever get one visit to Earth, as those who take their own lives do, and he had opted to use it immediately, knowing for certain what he would use it for._

 _He was told that he could travel through solid matter, but it had felt too uncomfortable for a novice like him, so he only did so when needed to traverse closed doors._

 _He found Chloe's room in not very long. She was lying down on her bed, wheelchair next to her, his own suicide note on her bedside table. Her eyes were wide open and bloodshot._

 _He doubted she could detect him at all, but still, no one could say he didn't try._

 _Ryan's phantom fingers stroked Chloe's dark hair, and he bent down to place his ghostly lips against her forehead._

 _"I love you, Chloe," he whispered. Or rather, tried to whisper. Ghosts couldn't make noises, but he tried his damned hardest to communicate. "I love you so, so much."_

 _Chloe started. She swore that ... but how ... he was dead!_

 _Chloe Reeves could've bet her wheelchair at that moment that her big brother Ryan had been in the room with her, stroked her hair, kissed her and told her that he loved her._

 _Ryan placed his hand over her heart. "I'll be right here."_

Chloe rubbed her sore eyes.

Ryan wasn't there.

So why was her heart so full?

 **Whew, this chapter was long!**

 **This was actually quite draining to write, I've spent far longer on it than the other two, mostly because I wasn't quite sure how to get the words out.**

 **I had the idea for a fic like this for a long time, as well as specific words and sentences in my head. However, that idea didn't include a reaction chapter. I dare say it's not my best work, but I hope you are satisfied regardless.**

 **Review!**


	4. Blamed and Indelibly Stained

**Surprise people!**

 **I bet you didn't expect to see any more of this little piece! Well, truth be told, me neither, but I had this hovering in my head for months, and in the wake of the finale of Series 4, I felt the need to finally put it in words.**

 **Warnings: Contains mentions of suicide and hypothermia.**

"I've just texted Johnny!" Tee announced, walking into the foyer with her phone. "He says he's gonna come and visit."

Tee was too focused on thoughts about her brother to notice that Carmen was coming towards her with an extremely annoyed expression.

"Yeah well, he can't now, can he?" Carmen asked rhetorically, looking at her with disappointment and betrayal. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Carmen, I ..." Tee started, quickly realising what Carmen meant, but she didn't get a chance to finish.

"You wanted to have a look at both flats before you told me?" Carmen accused her. "You wanted to make sure you chose the best one?"

"What?" Jody asked suddenly, who was coming downstairs, almost ready to go to her 'dentist appointment'.

"Tee, I'm up there, packing all our stuff, planning stuff for us and all the while you're stabbing me in the back!" Carmen shouted, ignoring Jody.

"Typical Carmen," Tee sighed, crossing her arms.

"What?"

"Opening your big gob before engaging your brain!" Tee retorted.

"You know what? Maybe it's a good thing that we're not gonna be living together," Carmen said.

"Yeah, maybe it is," Tee agreed. "Maybe Floss was right and you are a mean girl."

"Really?!" Carmen yelled. "That's rich coming from you, Tee Taylor!"

"Hey hey hey hey!" Mike intervened, coming out of the office. "What's going on here?"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Tee shouted, narrowing her eyes.

"You threw Toni and Billie under the bus just so you could have fun!" Carmen spat.

"Oh yeah?! Well YOU reported Mike to the police and caused him to get suspended!" Tee screamed.

Carmen was momentarily struck speechless, looking incredulous, before the dam broke and the words spilled out: "Well that's nothing compared to some of the stuff you've done!"

"Hey, this stops right-" May-Li tried to break up the fight, but she, along with everyone who had come to see what all the noise was about, was shaken to the bone when Carmen dealt her killing blow:

"RYAN'S BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS!"

Tee's eyes popped out of her head and her mouth dropped.

Mike buried his face in his hands.

The others watching looked utterly stricken, along with streaks on disbelief that Carmen had dared to go that far.

All except for Joseph and Archie, who had arrived too late for them to have known about the terrible tragedy that had taken place at Ashdene Ridge. Archie looked up at Kazima's shocked expression and asked, "Who's Ryan?"

He received no answer.

Carmen was shaking from adrenaline and breathing heavily, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead.

"Who killed Ryan?" Joseph asked no one in particular.

Bailey swallowed. "Ryan killed Ryan."

It had been nine whole months since the entire Dumping Ground was shaken in a way that it had not once been shaken before. Nine whole months since Harry had lost it, running away from home only to be found and tested for post-traumatic stress. Nine whole months since Ryan had taken his own life by means of hypothermia, and indelibly changed everyone who had known him at the time.

"Why?!" Joseph asked, his eyes popping as he stared up at Bailey. "W-why did he kill himself? _When_ did he kill himself? _How_ did he-"

His tirade of questions was cut off by Tyler's firm hand on his shoulder. Turning to look at him, the look on his face was a mixture of grief and "you should probably stop talking."

For what felt like hours, the foyer was in complete silence, as the ghosts of the past everyone had been trying so hard to ignore and eliminate came back to haunt everyone's memory.

That was until Mike's hands dropped. "Right," he said wearily, catching everyone's attention, "Carmen, Tee, in the office. Everyone else, just ..." he sighed deeply, trying not to lose composure now of all times, "just, go do whatever you want."

With sadness and a hint of fear (and confusion on the parts of Joseph and Archie) the group shuffled away, while Jody trudged downstairs and out through the door. Mike and May-Li were too taken up with their newly-opened wounds to pay much attention to her.

Sitting side-by-side on the sofa in the office, both girls felt utterly horrendous. Tee felt as though she had swallowed a sackful of wet cement and it was sitting cold, wet and heavy in her stomach. Carmen felt much the same, except that she also felt like she was going to upchuck all that cement.

Mike leant on his desk with a deep sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan. Like all working people, he'd had his days where he'd wondered why he had ever wanted his current job in the first place. For him, those days had been the ones where the kids just couldn't be controlled, where they had managed it get themselves into more trouble than some may consider impossible for kids to get themselves into. But none of those days had come remotely close to the day that Ryan had committed suicide, leaving a shocked and devastated dumping ground behind.

This one, however, was a close second.

"Carmen, Tee," he began, "I know that this is your last day, and you've been worrying about the flats and the missing items, but ..." he paused for breath, "Carmen, that in _no way_ means that you are excused from saying that ... that ..."

Carmen hung her head. "I'm sorry Mike," she mumbled, her voice thin and brittle.

Mike scoffed. "It's not me you should be apologising to."

"Alright," Carmen said, turning to her now-barely-friend. "I'm really sorry Tee, I shouldn't have said that to you."

"And one other thing," Mike said, kneeling on the floor so he was at Tee's eye level. "I need to know this Tee, so listen very carefully. I know that you and Ryan were never the best of friends, and he did some things to you and you did some things to him, but I need you to know that it is _not_ your fault that he killed himself. You hear me? _It's not your fault."_

The blonde girl nodded with a snivel, wiping her eyes on the cuff of her sleeve. It came away smeared with black from her eyeliner.

* * *

A few hours later, the girls were in the car, their luggage and memories - good and bad -clogged in their with them. They exchanged words occasionally, neither of them daring to address the elephant in the room.

That was until Jim drove past the local cemetery.

"Wait!" Tee called, sitting up. "Jim, please, can we stop for a few minutes?"

"Stop where?" the man asked.

"The cemetery. Please, Jim, I need to talk to someone."

After a moment, Jim parked outside the cast iron gates of the cemetery and Tee clambered out of the car, not even caring enough to look back to see if Carmen cared enough to follow her.

It didn't take her long to find the right headstone - at Ryan's funeral, she had dug the location of his grave into her memory. The headstone was simply made from granite, as Social Services hadn't been willing to fork out for a more polished-looking grey or white marble one. The wooden skateboard lying on the grass in front of it had almost grown into the ground over the past nine months, but the epitaph was fresh:

 _Ryan Gavin Reeves_

 _Born 23rd August 2001_

 _Died 10th February 2016_

 _You will never be forgotten._

Tee knelt down in front of it as carefully as she could, as if she was trying not to disturb her deceased rival's eternal slumber.

"Oh God, Ryan," she whispered to the still air, "what can I even say? I don't even know if you're there, or if you can hear me, but I just want to say ... I am sorry. Just, so sorry. I'm sorry that I threw you a birthday party when you didn't want it. I'm sorry I got Laces in to tell everyone your past. I'm sorry I told everyone about Chloe ..." Her breath hitched as she let the words settle.

Tee had never been one to believe the stories of life after death, or that your loved ones watched over you after you died, but she found herself straining her ears to hear the slightest whisper in response to her words.

There was nothing, but then Tee remembered that Ryan had died willingly, so he could leave it all behind.

He wouldn't have stuck around.

 **So that was that. As you have probably gathered, Chloe didn't move into the Dumping Ground in this storyline, for obvious reasons.**


End file.
